


Five

by traintobusan



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst, Death, M/M, So much angst, and i still don't really know how this site works so i don't know what to tag, i don't really know if the plot makes sense i made it solely for angst, not too graphic but still like don't read if you're sensitive to descriptions of death obviously, oh and it's kinda short, that's about it, they're idols, this is my first fic ever published on ao3 so please be gentle, uhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-23 00:50:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20883449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/traintobusan/pseuds/traintobusan
Summary: Everything that Zhong Chenle kisses, dies. Too bad he didn’t know that before falling for Park Jisung. Rather, too bad he didn’t know that before sharing his first kiss with Park Jisung.





	Five

It happened in five seconds. 

How was Chenle supposed to know?

He’s sure he knows everything about Jisung. The younger is his best, best friend, after all. They share everything, every secret, every experience, every emotion.

And Jisung doesn’t hide anything from Chenle, he swears. 

Well, anything except this.

It was something that happened ever since they were trainees, not all that long after they’d met, even. And sometimes it’s at the most inconvenient of times, sometimes it’s when the group is practicing their choreography, over and over, and even worse when Chenle and Jisung are practicing alone. Sometimes it’s when they’re performing, and Jisung’s grateful that he’s so good at hiding it, at least until the song is over, at least until the lights dim, until the cameras leave him, when he feels like collapsing in pain with a hand at his chest. Sometimes it’s amongst the busyness of the airport, when he feels like he can no longer move.

And sometimes it’s in the middle of the night, even when Chenle isn’t his roommate, and he wakes up feeling as if he’s barely able to breathe from the overwhelming pain, and all he wants, no needs, is the older to be there, even if it makes it a thousand times worse.

But he doesn’t tell anyone. He especially, doesn’t tell Chenle. 

Jisung knows, deep down, in a way that feels the same as identifying where pain originates in his own body, it’s because of Chenle. 

He doesn’t know how, or why, or anything else. He just knows, he’s just sure that it’s him. And he’ll be the first person to tell you that Chenle wouldn’t hurt a fly, intentionally at least, let alone his best friend. It’s something that would ruin his favourite hyung, knowing he was causing pain to someone he cared for. 

So he stays quiet.

Even when it gets worse. 

Even when some nights he’s in tears, and he feels like he can barely move, the engulfing sensation over his entire body unlike anything he’s ever felt before. He doesn’t say a word.

Jisung’s mother had told him, long before Chenle, that secrets can never stay that way. Nothing stays a secret, whether it’s kept for a day, or a century, the secret finds a way to be revealed. 

He hates that she’s right.

And when he has twenty older males in his life, each treating him as their own brother, constantly caring for him as if he were just that, it’s hard to hide it for too long. 

When he can’t leave it any longer, he decides to tell Chenle. Maybe he would know what to do, if anyone knew, it had to be him. That’s what he tries to convince himself at least, when he’s pacing the dorm all alone, halfway into the night.

And it’s as if the older was reading his mind, the next morning, when he asks Jisung to meet him in one of the rarely used practice rooms of their company, with the claim he wants to talk. Jisung wishes he could read his mind in fact, it would make it all a whole lot easier. 

So he agrees, and when the time comes, he makes his way to the particular room, one that the pair liked. It was sort of theirs, in a way, it was rather small, not at all big enough for the subunits of their group, and sort of far away from the other rooms of the similar type. He didn’t think it had ever been used before they found it, on a certain day as trainees when they gathered the courage to explore every hallway, to find whatever secrets the large building had. It was where they came for times like this, just to talk or practice, away from everything, cameras, staff, managers, busyness. Just the two, in an empty, mirrored room. 

Chenle is already there, waiting. He’s stood by the dust covered speaker when Jisung enters, and gives a small smile to himself when he hears the familiar sound of the room’s door opening and closing. Chenle turns to face the other, and Jisung can’t help but return the smile with the usual, somewhat shy one of his own, it was just something that the older effortlessly brought out of him. 

The two don’t sit, they just stand, relatively close in a comfortable silence. It’s several minutes before the older of the two speaks up, and looks to Jisung in doing so, their eyes meeting. “Do you trust me, Jisung-ah?” 

The taller makes a brief expression of confusion at the question. It was nothing he’d been asked before from Chenle, he was sure the answer to that was too obvious to need to be questioned. 

“Of course.” 

“Okay.”

There was more silence, enough to make Jisung wonder if Chenle had asked such a thing for no reason. 

Then, the older steps forward. 

They had already been close, but Jisung doesn’t think too much of it, close proximity been the two wasn’t rare. It was when Chenle had brought his hand to rest at Jisung’s cheek that the younger begun to feel the familiar sensation, one that always started at his chest. 

And then Chenle was kissing him.

One swift movement was all it had taken for the male to close the distance between the pair, connect their lips after years of wondering just how it would feel to do so. 

Five.

It takes Jisung several moments to register what’s happening, and then it takes several more to realise it’s happening to him, not some other version of himself he’s watching from afar, and not some dream he’s sure is real. Chenle is kissing him, his lips on his. At some point that he didn’t remember, Jisung had created a gentle grip by the hem of Chenle’s shirt, as if to steady himself in worries of becoming so surprised with the situation that he might completely lose balance and fall.

Four.

The younger had finally seemed to let the tension disperse and instead relax into the feeling of Chenle’s lips against his own, his eyes falling shut. Although the all too familiar feeling was quickly overwhelming the race of his heart, he felt as if the kiss was perfect. He’d certainly be lying if he said he hadn’t imagined such a thing before, how perfect their lips would feel amongst one another’s, how content his thoughts would become, even for just a second, where nothing mattered but Chenle, and what he shared with him. He hadn’t lied, he trusted the other male more than anyone in the world.

Three. 

Chenle too, relaxes into the shared moment when he realises Jisung is returning the kiss, and his hand moves from the taller’s cheek to the back of his head, fingers gently running through his hair. it felt unreal, too incredibly perfect of a moment. Jisung, on the other hand, can only last a fraction of a moment longer before he stumbles out of the kiss clumsily, hand drawn to his chest.

Two.

The shorter had opened his mouth to apologise the moment their lips had separated, sure it was the suddenness of the situation, or maybe Chenle hadn’t been as good of a kisser as he’d imagined. How would he know? Jisung had been his first kiss. 

Jisung’s pain is overwhelming, crushing. 

He’d ignored the impending feeling of it approaching, but all at once, it had come, worse than ever before, worse than the darkest of his imagination could ever show him. And it stung, his chest, like the sharpest tool imaginable had been plunged through it, aimed towards his heart, taking his entire body, all of his strength with it. 

He couldn’t stand, at some point he falls to his knees, but he can’t remember when, his vision is in and out, one moment it’s there, the next it’s a blur, and then it’s nothing at all. Chenle is beside him, panicking more than ever. He doesn’t know what’s happening, not a single godamn clue, but he’s terrified, seeing the younger in so much pain, trying to help him keep his own weight up.

One.

A groan of pain falls from Jisung’s lips, his soft, addicting lips that just seconds ago Chenle had against his own, and everything hurts, not an inch of his body doesn’t ache, doesn’t feel like the heaviest matter on earth to hold up. Everything is hard, even using his senses feels like a struggle. Exhaling and inhaling feel like the most difficult thing he’s ever had to do, and he’s doing it as often as he can, he’s sure, but that isn’t enough, it’s not even close. He doesn’t remember moving, but he’s lying down now, his head resting on Chenle. It’s hard to see, to hear or feel, but he can make out the lights above them, have they always been this bright? He thinks he can hear Chenle crying, but he can’t focus enough to see. He’s practically forgotten his lack of understanding of what’s happening, his wonder of why the pain was endlessly more intense than he’s ever felt. 

It sort of feels like he understands it now. 

And it was okay.

It’s so much effort to move. But he does, for Chenle. He moves just his hand, enough to show that he wants the sobbing male above him to do the same, who connects their hands in confusion, and Jisung is satisfied with that, even if he doesn’t have the strength to lace their fingers together like he always used to. He’d smile, if he could, when he feels the older do it for him, and Chenle’s shaking thumb began to trace over the back of Jisung’s larger hand. 

Maybe Jisung does get that moment, where he’s content, with nothing but Chenle in his mind. 

And it just so happens to be Jisung’s last moment. 

Because he doesn’t feel anything anymore, he doesn’t hear Chenle, and he doesn’t see the lights above him, and he doesn’t feel the smaller hand in his own. 

And Chenle was still there, crying, calling for help, God he knows he’s too late but someone has to hear him, someone has to know how to fix this. And the lights still illuminate the two, on the cold, stainless floor, even giving the briefest of flickers to remind that they were. And Chenle’s hand is still in Jisung’s, squeezing it so tightly just so he can gain some sort of reaction from him, hoping, praying that the younger would show any sign that he feels it.

But Jisung is dead.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope this wasn't too awful! it's been a long time since i've published a fic anywhere heh. more to come but hopefully not as Depressing as this :] (except i literally don't know how to write without including angst in some way it's a problem)
> 
> [my cc! leave requests or feedback if you like](https://curiouscat.me/CHENJl)


End file.
